


Why?

by CheekyTorah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Good Draco, M/M, Pining, Romance, i don’t know how to tag this one, reformed Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/pseuds/CheekyTorah
Summary: 5 times Draco Malfoy asked Potter a question and the other time when Potter finally answered.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 325





	Why?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When They Tell Our Story, They'll Tell the Story of Tonight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802068) by [tamerofdarkstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars). 



> This was written because of my love for the story When they tell our story.. I was wanting to give an idea of what came next and they gave me the go ahead to write this piece as a spin off!

Part I

Draco chased after Potters retreating figure. Why did he save Draco from the fire? Why did he speak on his behalf? How did he know that Draco actually recognized him in that room? Surely that wasn’t because Potter felt he owed some kind of debt?

“Potter!” Draco yelled out into the corridor of the Ministry.

Potter froze, his back still to Draco. Draco stopped about six or so feet away, staring at his broad shoulders, his well-tailored suit. Draco gulped; Potter’s arse looked amazing in proper attire. He stood his ground, head held high. He owed this man everything, more than just a life debt, he owed Potter his own life. Draco owed him more than just words of gratitude and apologies. But he still had to know.

“Why? Why did you do that? Why speak for me, I can understand speaking for my mother but why me?”

Potter turned slightly so Draco could see his profile, and he smirked, looking up at the ceiling, before cocking his head slightly and looking at Draco. A lopsided grin and pained eyes painted his face.

“You’re gonna have to figure that one out for yourself, Malfoy. See you ‘round!”

~*~

Part II

Eighth year was a joke. Most of the students who did bother to return were far too busy shagging in the corridors to study, and sleeping through classes. Draco was, of course, forced to return as a part of his rehabilitation program before he would be forced to relinquish his wand and live in the Muggle world for a year. 

The Ministry wasn’t completely heartless, though. They had an identity created through their Muggle Liaison department, and he would get a flat, and a job, everything he needed to survive without magic and house elves.

He had been keeping his head down, avoiding almost everyone—even his best friends Greg, Pansy and Blaise—and yet everyone, namely a select three, assumed he was still the bigoted bully he used to be. Of course, a year was not long enough to convince anyone he was changing. Not even himself.

He could feel eyes on him, prickling the back of his neck and rubbing all his senses the wrong way. He knew what colour those eyes would be, who they belonged to, the mess of hair that fell in front of them, the scar that was now extended past his brow and brushed the cheek. Draco narrowed his own icy eyes and looked up to meet big, wide, green ones. He expected Potter to look away, but he held Draco’s steady gaze, unblinking.

“Why are you staring at me, Potter? Surely you have better things to do?”

The corner of Potters mouth twitched, the slightest curve and hint of a smirk.

“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself, Malfoy.”

~*~

Part III

Six months. That was how long it took Draco to feel comfortable in his little flat, going to the Tesco down the street, using a mobile, and waiting tables at the bar and grill across town. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable on the Tube, but even the Muggle friends he had made weren’t all that keen on that mode of transportation themselves, so Draco figured—over all—he was doing quite alright in the Muggle world. 

What he was afraid of was going back to the magical world, where he was a symbol of everything people had lost. Where the mark on his arm was enough to make people shrink away in fear, a reminder of his disgusting upbringing, of being on the wrong side of the war. 

In all honesty, he might consider just staying in the Muggle world. He would, of course, retrieve his wand, and make the Unbreakable Vow to never use an Unspeakable again, but he may just return to his Muggle flat and his Muggle job and continue to live a mundane life. 

And it had absolutely nothing to do with Potter and his hoard of baboons showing up at his work once a month for their regular get-together. And Draco was decidedly not staring at the back of Potters stupid head right that minute, as he served out drinks to the table across the room from the rowdy table of Hogwarts Alumni.

Draco slipped back behind the bar, drying cups and stacking them with the rest of the dishes. Thoughts of Hogwarts, and wire rim glasses were absolutely not filling his head. When knuckles knocked against the wood, pulling Draco from his thoughts, Draco looked up into bright green eyes and a soft smile.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco sighed, “Why can’t you find some other establishment to spend your time in?”

Potter grinned and shook his head in what appeared to be disbelief. 

“Figure it out, Malfoy. I know you’re the smart one.”

~*~

Part IV

His first time walking into the Ministry since his trial was unnerving. He kept his head down and beelined for the DMLE. There he would be able to retrieve his wand and have his magic trace removed and analysed to ensure he hadn’t been doing wandless magic in the past year. Of course he hadn’t; it was not worth a trip to Azkaban. 

When he arrived it was to find Potter and Weasley, and their partners Peters and Jefferson. Why did they have to be his Auror’s?

“Malfoy,” Potter said and Weasley nodded at him in greeting.

Peters sneered at him and Jefferson glared. Draco just waited for them to cast their spells to check on his magical use. 

“I’ll bet he had visitors,” Peters muttered. “Come on, Harry, we can’t just give him back his wand without the tracer wards. What if he goes off and-”

“And what?” Potter snapped. “He’s clear, he deserves his privacy now.”

“He’s a Death Eater!” Jefferson growled.

“Was, and for like five minutes,” Weasley snorted.

“Exactly.” Potter placed the wand in front of Draco. “Being marked happened to him, he was a kid like many of us. Where were you during the Battle of Hogwarts, Peters? During the years leading up to it? Draco saved my life, risking his own life and the lives of his family. I would have been killed otherwise and Voldemort would have likely won. Can you say you did anything comparable to that?”

Peters looked away and Jefferson pushed off from the table, kicked over his chair and slammed out of the room.

“Can’t change everyone,” Potter smirked at Draco who was staring at him in shock.

Weasley waved his wand and Draco felt the magic lift off his magical core. He felt immediately freer. Picking up his wand, he had a sense of nostalgia and like he was getting a piece of himself back. 

“Thank you,” Draco choked out and then cleared his throat awkwardly.

Potter nodded and they all stood. Draco caught Potters arm, halting him and Weasley from leaving.

“Why? Why do you keep helping me?”

Weasley snorted, shook his head and slipped out giving Potter a look—a very heavy look—before the door swung shut behind him. Harry just smiled. 

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” He looked up and sighed before he too left, and Draco just stood there confused.

~*~

Part V

It was almost inevitable. Being one of the few Pureblood Wizards who were fully integrated back into the Muggle world, Draco was drawn to work that would encourage positive coexistence between Muggles and Wizards. Two years after his year of his forced living in the Muggle world he still resided in the same flat. His mother was confined to the Manor for life, and he visited her as regularly as she liked and as sparsely as he could get away with.

It was absolutely unavoidable that once Draco had begun work in London’s governmental building the year prior, often teaming with the Ministry as their Muggle Liaison, he was bound to cross paths with Auror Potter. He had hoped his partner would be able to handle Potter, but the blasted Scarhead apparently requested him every bloody time. 

They were in negotiation this time with the release of a Wizard from a Muggle jail. The Wizard was in a Wizarding holding cell, and the Ministry wanted to put him on trial with the Wizengamot and send him to Azkaban, but the Muggle/Wizard Liaison offices were well aware of the lack of decency in that place. They had created special secluded jail cells which had anti-magic wards up preventing a Wizard from even tapping into his or her magical core. 

“Potter, we are not releasing him to the Ministry. Our offices don’t believe in your world’s method of reformatory.”

“We hardly have an interest in reform, Malfoy. Azkaban ensures he will not be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“We believe in rehabilitation and reform, and as he was arrested within Muggle London’s jurisdictions, we have a say whether we will be releasing him into your custody. We have analysed the evidence and the allegations, and don’t believe it is prudent to release him to your government.”

“Your government, too,” Potter grumbled. “Honestly, Malfoy, he's a Pureblood Wizard, this is his world, not the Muggle one that he is hiding in!”

“I never thought I would be the one fighting on this side, but let me reword this for your tiny brain. He’s not being released to the Ministry. If he has information you require for any other ongoing case you may question him, but he remains here to finish out his sentence. After that, if you so choose to arrest, interrogate and try him in your court of law that would be the choice of the Ministry. Though, I can’t stress this enough, give him a chance to prove he can be reformed before you force him into that hell, Potter. I was there for only a week and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone short of Voldemort himself.”

“Okay.” Potter said after a moment of staring at Draco thoughtfully. 

Draco was stunned.

“Really?” At Harry’s nod Draco continued. “I don’t understand you Potter. I expected more of a fight.”

“Well, maybe you convinced me.”

“What’s your angle?” Draco snapped, glaring at Potter.

Potter laughed and collected his papers, shoving them into his briefcase before shrinking it, and slipping it in his pocket. 

“Come on, Malfoy, you know.” And Potter left the room, his robes billowing behind him.

~*~

Part VI

The music was in his blood; he felt it in his skin and flowing out of him in waves. He rocked his hips, hands over his head and swayed to the beat. It was nothing like being in suits all day in a stuffy office. He loved his job. And he loved the freedom he had at Muggle gay clubs. He could dress outrageously, shake his arse and slip out with an attractive bloke. There was no tabloid the following day about the evil Death Eater ‘at it again’. Though he did miss the feeling of a powerful Wizard underneath him, over him, their magic pooling together and exploding around them in sparks and fire. There was nothing like fucking a Wizard. 

Draco had that feeling again, the one that screamed he was being watched. He turned and saw him, all messy hair, leather jacket, and sparkling green eyes. He was sprawled out in a booth, watching Draco’s every angle, every point. If Draco danced a little slower and swirled his hips a little more sensually, well, it was only a coincidence.

A large man, tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, gave him that look. The one that says he’s asking, the one that preceded him dancing into Draco's space and pulling Draco roughly against him. They danced together for a few songs before Draco waved the man off, and he disappeared in a huff of annoyance that had Draco cackling. He then glanced absently towards the booth that was now empty and pretended that a wave of disappointment hadn’t just washed over him. 

He felt someone press against him from behind, hands gripping his hips and lips brushing against his ear.

“Dance with me.” The husky voice and breath against his neck made Draco shiver. 

They swayed to the music, Draco grinding back against the man behind him, his hands running all over Draco's body. Draco raised his hands behind him and sunk into thick messy hair, brushing glasses—

He whirled around and was face to face with Harry-fucking-Potter.

“Why?” Draco yelled but was at a loss for more words than that.

“Why not?” Potter smirked and yelled back.

Draco glowered. He wanted a real answer from the bastard for once. Potter sighed and ran his hands through his already messy hair. He nodded towards the smoking section. Draco followed close behind him.

“Why did you dance with me, Potter?” Draco demanded loudly. “Why do you help me, why stand up at my trial, stand up for me at the end of my sentence, side with me about criminals and other business relations. Why?”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy!” Potter laughed. “Didn’t you know I’ve wanted in your pants since sixth year? Course not. Then you go change into an actually decent bloke, fighting for people’s rights, standing by Muggles and their freedoms. So you get me to fall half-mad for you. How are you this thick that you couldn’t even figure it out?”

Draco answered him by crushing their lips together in a brief but fiery kiss. 

“Just wanted to hear you say it,” Draco smirked.

“Sure,” Potter grinned and then dragged Draco back to the dance floor.

Fin.


End file.
